


Suspension

by firetalks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firetalks/pseuds/firetalks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a semi-successful writer of gay romance novels. Arthur is his long suffering flat mate. Merlin asks him for a little help, when he's not sure whether the sex scene he just finished is actually, physically possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspension

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/31491.html?thread=31342851#t31342851) at [kinkme_merlin](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/). I've done a bit of editing/tweaking since, so this is the final version.

Arthur first met Merlin six months ago while was standing on the Tube, Merlin in the seat next to him, hunched over a notebook, scribbling words into it ferociously.

"Are you writing or engraving?" The harsh press of his pen had eased off the page as Merlin looked up at with a quizzical brow to see who had addressed him. Arthur rocked gently from side to side as the crowded train sped along and he'd smiled at him and nodded to the fingers now delicately holding the pen, "It's a wonder you're not tearing the page."

Merlin had chuckled, cheeks tinting the slightest pink as he dropped his pen. "Sorry," he had mumbled before leaning down to retrieve it, and Arthur had wondered why he was apologizing. "Writing," Merlin answered when he was vertical again and he smiled softly. "I have a bad habit of pressing the pen too hard."

"I was just concerned you were going to dig it straight through to your lap next," Arthur had teased, causing Merlin to glance down at the top of his thighs, thin and vibrating with the energy of the train. "I'm Arthur," he continued, extending his hand for the taking.

"Merlin," he'd said, awkwardly maneuvering his pen into his notebook before closing it and reaching out to take Arthur's hand.

"So, Merlin," Arthur said, releasing Merlin's hand to gesture back at his notebook. "Either you're really passionate about what you're writing, or the Tube makes you as aggressive as it does me, so which is it?"

Merlin had peered around the train car and said, "Both, actually." He looked to Arthur with a grin. "Although not so much the aggressive bit. Not today at least." He paused and observed Arthur's small smile. "I'm an author. Well, I guess 'writer' might be more suitable, but I _am_ published so..."

Arthur raised his eyebrows in interest and shuffled his feet to steady himself as the train rumbled on. "Oh. What do you write?"

With an embarrassed chuckle, Merlin glanced down at the floor with a reserved smile and attempted to formulate an answer. "It's...uh." Another slight chuckle. "It's an interesting story, really."

\---

"Arthur, tell me which sounds better: 'his thick, hard shaft pushed into Ethan's opening' or 'his thick, hard shaft penetrated Ethan's opening?'"

So Merlin hadn't been lying. It _was_ an interesting story. After their meeting on the train, he and Merlin, surprised to find that they were getting off at the same stop, decided to grab a cup of coffee, sat down at a table by the window and that's when Merlin confessed that he’d authored over fifteen gay erotica novels.

("It's not erotica, Arthur. It's romance. There's a difference."

"You just said there are at least two sex scenes in every book!"

"Sensual. I said sensual scenes. And will you stop giggling? People are staring.")

But Arthur hadn't stopped giggling. 

In fact, Arthur hadn't stopped laughing for the last few months. He laughed about other things, too, and was grateful when Merlin joined in so that they could laugh over those things together. Like really bad horror films or drunken phone calls at three in the morning or the way Americans said 'herbs.' 

Arthur laughed from the day he met Merlin right on through to the day he moved into a flat with him, and that day had ended with them curled in on themselves on the bare floor, laughing uncontrollably over the strange looks their new neighbors had given them when the box containing all of Merlin's published work had ripped open, spilling chiseled abs and strong arms all over the sidewalk outside.

The first few weeks were filled with the lightest awkwardness that comes with not knowing another person's shower habits yet or if they like to sit on the right or left side of the couch. But eventually Arthur realized Merlin didn't mind if the shower water was slightly cold when he woke up late in the mornings, and Merlin realized Arthur liked to sit on the side of the couch closest to the door. They settled into a routine, simple and efficient, building their friendship between Merlin's writing and Arthur's business. It was give and take with Merlin, Arthur discovered. He would offer Merlin advice or feedback regarding his latest work and in return, Merlin would remind Arthur that he would never be his father, no matter how hard he tried, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

So it came as no shock to Arthur for Merlin to be turned around in his computer chair, looking back at him with expectant eyes, waiting for his opinion on how best to describe his current 'sensual scene.'

Arthur doesn't even look up from the business files spread out across the couch. "Merlin, you know I'm not good with your porn. I'll read just about everything else you write, but offering you advice on how to word things in an explicit chapter makes me feel... violated."

Merlin can't help but laugh, feigning offense. "Oh, shut up, you prat. You've read plenty of my porn. Just choose one."

Arthur only looks up when he feels a crumpled piece of paper hit the side of his head, no doubt Merlin's playful work. He picks it up from his lap and says, "The first. Only because it sounds a lot less intimidating."

"Penetrated it is, then," Merlin nods, swiveling back around in his chair to type the words with defiant and dexterous fingers.

Arthur laughs and relishes in the squeak Merlin makes when he throws the ball of paper back at him. He turns to his finances again and listens to Merlin typing away.

\---

When Arthur comes home from work, he finds Merlin on all fours on the couch, one of his hands pressed into the cushions below him, the other gripping the armrest firmly. Arthur makes a bemused face only momentarily and then remembers the time he walked in on Merlin spread out on the kitchen counter and doesn't think much else of it. His days would feel unusual if he ever walked in on Merlin doing anything that seemed normal.

"Arthur," Merlin greets with a wide smile, still bracing himself. "You're home early."

Arthur sets his briefcase down by the door and shrugs off his coat. "Appointment was cancelled last minute," he says, and then, "Another experiment for your book?"

Merlin's tongue is poking out of his mouth when he nods, concentrating. "Yeah. The scene I had going wasn't working; too similar to one of my earlier works. So I'm trying to figure out how Thomas can fuck Ethan on the couch without putting weight on his broken wrist or hurting Ethan's bruised ribs."

"Jesus, Merlin, what have you done to the poor blokes? Send their car off a cliff?" Arthur asks. Somewhere along the line, Arthur had picked up on Merlin's habit of referring to the characters in his novels as real people. Arthur had also noticed how pleased Merlin seemed when he did the same out of politeness.

"Not yet," Merlin says with a smirk, wiggling his hips slightly. "That's not until chapter ten." 

Arthur exaggerates when he rolls his eyes, a playful smile tainting his lips. 

"No, it was a bar fight," Merlin continues. "Okay, so this one guy — Logan, right? — he accused Ethan of purposefully knocking over his beer, when really it was this other asshole, Robert. And Ethan kept telling Logan he'd buy him another but Logan wasn't having it, and kept pushing Ethan, obviously belligerent and looking for a fight. So Logan throws the first punch, hits Ethan right in the jaw. And of course now's the time that Thomas comes out of the toilets and hears all of the commotion. And Thomas isn't about to just stand there and watch Ethan and this drunk fuck fight, right? So _he_ jumps in, that dick Robert jumps in, a few other rowdy bar-goers throw a few punches, and shit just generally goes further downhill from there. By the time it's all over, Thomas has a broken wrist and Ethan took a bar stool to the ribs. And now it's time for them to fuck, but I can't figure out how to do it without making it painful."

Arthur is silent for a moment, absorbing all of the excitement Merlin had radiated while rehashing this particular scene, before he chuckles and shakes his head, baffled by the extremities of Merlin's imagination.

"What?" Merlin deflates, shifting to sit on the couch like a normal person would. "Is it too much? Is it cheesy?"

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, shoulders bouncing slightly with his laughter. "No, no," he insists. "Not at —" He stops to clear his throat and shake off his amusement. Then in a more serious tone, "Not at all."

"You're laughing!" Merlin states, pointing an accusatory finger in Arthur's direction, albeit with a small smile. "Why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing," Arthur cries, throwing his hands up in innocence. "I'm not."

"Come on, Arthur, you promised me you'd always be honest with my work. What's wrong with it?"

Arthur shakes his head. "Nothing, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just— Your imagination, Merlin. It never ceases to astound me."

The small smile on Merlin's face shrinks even smaller and finally disappears. "You hate it," he says, dejectedly, hanging his head.

"I don't hate it, Merlin. Don't be such a girl," Arthur scolds him lightly. "I didn't mean to react that way. I know you take your work seriously, as do I." Merlin's eyes flit up to Arthur and he gives him a half-hearted smile. "That's just... not what I was expecting."

"You should know by now, Arthur, to never expect anything less than the unexpected," Merlin offers, his growing smile a sign of a peace offering. Arthur receives it graciously and goes to fetch a glass from the cabinet for some water.

"Well," he begins, lifting the tap. "At least when I walked in on you in the kitchen that one time, your explanation didn't involve anyone suffering bruised ribs."

"You're right," Merlin agrees with a small laugh. There's a pause as he tries to remember why exactly he'd been on the counter in the first place. When his face gives evidence that he's remembered he adds, "But if I recall correctly, that particular scene did _end_ in bruised ribs."

Arthur laughs again.

\---

After dinner later that week, Arthur keys into their apartment and Merlin makes a beeline for his computer.

"In a rush?" Arthur questions, amused by Merlin's slight trip after catching his foot on the edge of the couch. Merlin has the computer booted up before Arthur even makes it over the threshold.

"Shh. I need absolute quiet," Merlin states urgently, opening up one of the many documents where he saves his work. He scrolls up several pages, backtracking, and stops just four pages from where the document ends. Highlighting the words from where his cursor blinks to the last page, Merlin swiftly deletes it all and types in a single sentence before sighing, satisfied.

"What? Merlin, you just —" Arthur stands over his shoulder, observing Merlin's clear descent into madness. "You just deleted the entire sex scene you've been working on for days!"

"I did," Merlin agrees rather smugly.

"This isn't about what I said the other night, is it?" Arthur asks, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for making Merlin doubt the worth of his words. "Because I told you that I didn't mean for —"

"No, it's not. This is strictly of my own volition." Merlin spins around in his chair and looks up at Arthur's shocked face. "The sex was rubbish and too rushed for their relationship, once I started really thinking about it. Ethan wouldn't have slept with Thomas just three chapters in."

Arthur looks at him, wary. It's highly unlike Merlin to delete that much of his hard work with such ease. "You're absolutely sure removing it was the right thing to do?"

"Yes," Merlin nods, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. "And now it means I get to rewrite the intimate bits all over again."

"After the sex you were just willing to put them through, I shudder to think of how you plan to make them suffer this time." Arthur ruffles Merlin's hair, shuffles over to the couch, and turns on the telly.

"There's never any suffering in my sex, Arthur," Merlin counters. "At least not any physical suffering. And that's another reason why I cut it: my readers know what to expect from me and agonizing sex isn't why they buy my books."

Arthur stops flipping through the channels and tosses a reply to Merlin over his shoulder, "Well, I quite liked the unexpectedness of it all; it's rather refreshing. Maybe you should give your readers something new. Spice it up a little, Emrys." He continues flipping through the channels, searching for anything that could pass as remotely entertaining and it isn't until a particularly quiet scene in the film he's watching that he notices Merlin has been oddly quiet. When he glances back at him, Merlin is staring at the screen blankly.

\---

"Okay, Arthur, I need your help."

"What if I don't want to volunteer?"

"You have no choice."

Arthur sighs heavily, exaggerating how put out he is by having to roll off the couch and trek _all the way_ into the kitchen to see what Merlin needs. When he reaches the divide where the carpet meets the kitchen's tiled floor, he pauses. "This isn't one of your experiments again, is it?"

Merlin, perched on the edge of the counter, hops off as Arthur enters and scratches behind his ear, a tick Arthur knows he only does when he's nervous. "Uh, yes, actually. But I —"

"Merlin, what have I told you about asking me to help you pose for your stories?" Arthur says in a stern tone, like a parent to a child.

"That was one time! And I didn't mean for your sister to walk in _right_ as you were bent over the back of the couch like that," Merlin cries, amusement threaded through every word though he tries to make it sound apologetic.

"I'll have you know, Morgana holds that over my head to this day."

"You know I didn't —" Merlin huffs, cutting himself off as Arthur crosses his arms over his chest and looks at him disapprovingly. "Fine, if it will make you feel better, I'll lock the door."

"That's not going to change anything, Merlin," Arthur says, his voice chasing after Merlin who has rushed to the door to bolt it shut. "My embarrassment and Morgana's merciless ways are already seared into the fabric of time. You can't erase that nightmare."

Merlin re-enters the kitchen and stands a short distance from Arthur, next to the island positioned in the middle of the floor. "Look, I know you're just being overdramatic, like you always are. And I'm asking things of you that make you feel a bit weird, like I always do. But if you could just please bear with me for five minutes so I can figure this out, I promise I'll ask Gwaine to help me in the future."

Arthur can't help but laugh out loud at such a suggestion. _Of course_ Gwaine would help Merlin. In fact, he'd probably jump at the chance to help Merlin pose him in various erotic positions. Hell, he'd probably get stark-arse naked and do it, too.

"It's alright, Merlin. You don't have to ask Gwaine," Arthur assures, realizing it's better to succumb to Merlin's pleas now than have a shameless and very naked Gwaine traipsing around their apartment in the future. "How can I help?"

\---

"Arthur, you can't just —"

"Well, how the hell do you want me to —?"

"You're going to drop me! You're going to drop me!"

"Oh, shut _up_ , Merlin. I'm not going to drop you!"

"God, don't— Ouch, that is my arse, you arse!"

"I have a right mind to _purposefully_ drop you, you twit."

As it turned out, Merlin had apparently chosen the dexterity and showmanship required of this particular sexual position, rather than its actual possibility. It had started out with Merlin placing Arthur on the edge of the island, positioning him exactly as he wanted before he sheepishly crawled into his lap, facing him with pink ears. Arthur had rolled his eyes and allowed it, letting Merlin's lithe body settle on the tops of his thighs.

"Okay, I'm just going to shift, so..." Merlin had said rather bashfully, rising just a little from his squatting position to swing his legs around to Arthur's sides, extending them out behind him so that his heels touched the other side of the counter. He'd left all of his weight — although he wasn't terribly heavy — on Arthur and had laughed nervously. "Right. So this is where it gets tricky," he'd said just before the chaos currently unfolding had ensued, and had proceeded to lean as far back as possible, placing Arthur's hands firmly on his hips to steady him. 

And that's where he was now. Well, at least that was where he was trying to be if Arthur would just _stop fidgeting_.

"Merlin, I know you're trying really hard to make this work, but I don't think —"

Merlin cuts Arthur off, craning his neck to look over his own chest, his face flushed as he says breathlessly, "You told me that I needed to spice up my sex scenes, Arthur. You told me to do something unexpected."

"Yes, but I didn't realize it would entail you hovering in my lap about to break your spine in two," Arthur says, rather loudly and exasperated. His frustration with Merlin is growing and he's finding it much more difficult to maintain a sense of civility, especially when Merlin is practically bending over backwards, pressing all of his weight into Arthur's groin.

"My spine isn't the problem, Arthur. It's your inability to hold me up that has me two seconds away from getting a concussion from this drawer," Merlin says, placing a hand carefully over the knob to the drawer that holds their forks, knives and Arthur's stupidly expensive can opener.

Arthur grumbles something unintelligible and presses his fingers more firmly into Merlin's hips, adjusting his knees so that they rest closer together to provide support under Merlin’s back. "The things I do for you…” he says lowly and then louder, "I'm not sure what inspired this little idea of yours. Is this Ethan's work? Or is it Thomas? Did they tell you that they wanted to fuck each other in this _ridiculous_ position or did you just —"

"Here we go again," Merlin sighs, growing aggravated. "Please, continue to belittle the importance of my characterization."

"Well, I wouldn't have to do these weird experiments with you if you'd find yourself a decent lay every once in a while. Jesus, it's as if you've forgotten how it works or something. Contrary to popular belief, _Merlin_ , not everyone in real life is as sexually liberal or flexible as the characters in your books."

"Oh, so now you're taking the piss out of my sex life, too. Great," Merlin says, sarcasm present in his tone. He growls and Arthur feels the muscles in his back clench against his thighs as Merlin stiffens. "You know what? Forget it," Merlin dismisses, beginning to pull himself up. Arthur watches the stomach muscles beneath his shirt tense as Merlin starts to rise, struggling to continue his bitching though he's short of breath. "I'll just call Gwaine tomorrow and maybe he won't be such an _arse_ when I —"

Whatever breath Merlin had been clinging to completely leaves him in the last few inches as he pulls himself upright, his hips rolling and pressing into Arthur's lap with a friction that would make even Ethan and Thomas blush.

There are thousands upon thousands of words that race through Arthur's mind, but the only word that sticks in his brain is ' _filthy_.' And the sound Merlin makes when he's vertical, the way he seems off balance and dizzy, the way he clutches Arthur's shoulder to ground himself, all of it goes straight to Arthur's cock in a rush of hot, jagged heat, tearing through his chest and burning low, low in his stomach.

Merlin stares at him, eyes growing a bit wider as neither of them react to the situation, and Arthur notices a bright red wave of blush begin to creep up Merlin's neck, tinting his ears and cheeks. His lips are parted and they're glistening, quivering slightly, and Arthur stares at them intently, waiting for them to move, to form words, any words. Then he realizes exactly how tense Merlin is, how frozen and solid he feels in Arthur's lap and how hard his fingers are digging into the flesh on Arthur's shoulder. He swears he can hear his own heartbeat, suddenly racing in his chest as if this single movement by Merlin had thrown it into a dead sprint.

And then Merlin does something incredibly stupid — which shouldn't surprised Arthur, really — and he tries to alleviate the tension by attempting to slide out of Arthur's lap. But the pressure he exerts when he tries to bring his legs back underneath him causes another moment of that filthy, _filthy_ friction Arthur's stomach had flipped for, and Merlin's almost inaudible whimper indicates he's noticed it as well. He stills and looks at Arthur a bit frantically, the tenseness in his arm beginning to waver under the immense weight of uncertainty pressing down on them.

And Merlin licks his lips and any inkling of uncertainty within Arthur vanishes, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that he wants to taste Merlin’s trembling mouth.

Arthur lunges at him, one of the heavy hands he'd positioned on Merlin's hip sliding up to his back to press him forward, to pull him closer. And Arthur kisses him so rough he feels Merlin's teeth through the press of their lips. 

The way Merlin reacts is indecent, really, instantly wrapping the miles of his legs tight around Arthur's waist as he rolls his hips up to get better access to Arthur's mouth. He bites at Arthur with equal fervor, one of his hands tangling itself in Arthur's golden hair and he makes a sound in the back of his throat that rumbles up from his chest and causes Arthur to groan.

Arthur's not really sure how he gets them off the counter without falling — they say adrenaline can explain various seemingly impossible human feats — but he manages, Merlin clinging to him with those thin legs of his, trying desperately to lick the warmth in Arthur's mouth.

Walking with Merlin clutched to him proves to be more difficult than Arthur anticipated, mostly due to how weak his legs feel with Merlin _kissing him like that_ , and when he stumbles slightly at the kitchen entrance, he accidentally slams Merlin's back into the wall. The yelp Merlin releases is glorious. A sharp pain explodes between his shoulders but fades deliciously as Arthur pulls them away from the wall and toward his bedroom, kissing him with an open mouth the entire trek down the hall.

Just as Arthur's about to kick open the door to his room, Merlin releases his grasp on Arthur's hair and braces himself against the doorframe, halting them.

"No," he huffs, biting at Arthur's persistent mouth. "My room. I — Stuff..."

Arthur shuffles over a few feet and Merlin reaches blindly behind him for his doorknob, fingers grappling. When they finally manage to work the door open, Arthur doesn't even make it two steps into Merlin's room before he feels as clumsy as Merlin always seems, tripping over various unknown things scattered about the floor, kicking them to the side as he maneuvers toward Merlin's unmade bed.

It's a bit messy, once Arthur has Merlin pinned down. Merlin's limbs are flying about in every direction and Arthur's trying to make quick work of his trousers without actually ripping off a button. Merlin stops writhing beneath him and sits up swiftly, curling his fingers around the hem of his shirt and he hikes it up over his head with little regard for decency. Arthur fumbles a bit more at the sight of it.

By the time Arthur has finally worked his way out of his trousers, he's cursed them more times than he'd willingly admit, and Merlin is reaching over to his nightstand to retrieve a small bottle and a packet from a haphazardly torn open box, naked and inviting. The moment of frustration and contempt Arthur feels for his trousers passes and when he's finally undressed, the feel of his bare skin on Merlin's has him diving for Merlin's mouth again.

Merlin kisses back with a greedy tongue, pulling Arthur closer to him as he presses the items into Arthur's hand. Arthur shuffles onto all fours, his head dipped low to continue kissing Merlin and his cock brushes against the tremble in Merlin's stomach.

The cool finger Arthur slips into Merlin, slick and glistening with the lube Merlin supplied, rips a moan from Merlin's lips and Arthur swallows it up. He works Merlin slowly, savoring the way Merlin whines softly into his mouth and curls his fingers tighter in Arthur's hair. By the time he works two fingers in, Merlin is panting heavily onto Arthur's pink, pink lips, his eyes clenched shut, his hips bucking up for more. When Merlin vocalizes this desire, however, Arthur is thoroughly unprepared.

" _Fuck_ , Arthur," Merlin murmurs, arching up into him. Arthur works his fingers in deeper, faster. Merlin's breath hitches as he says, "God, _ah_ — Want you."

Arthur doesn't need to be told twice.

Merlin is generous with the pitiful moan he makes when Arthur withdraws his fingers, leaving Merlin empty and desperate. And Arthur, determined not to keep Merlin waiting for too long, hastily tears open the packet with trembling fingers before rolling it on his cock that Merlin is practically pawing for. He turns the small bottle upside down, dripping wet, slippery liquid over his cock before working himself while he stares down at Merlin, already looking debauched and utterly wrecked. Arthur can't wait to see what he looks like when he's finished with him.

The first graze of Arthur's cock against Merlin's entrance causes Merlin to gasp and his legs shift instantly to let Arthur in closer. The push in causes Merlin to make an even more beautiful sound and it's all Arthur can do not to come undone. It's a hot, frictionless slide and Merlin's eyes roll back as his head pushes deep into the mattress, exposing the pale column of his throat, tempting Arthur. When Arthur leans down low to taste it, Merlin's legs fall open wider, welcoming Arthur completely, and his entire body shudders as Arthur pushes his cock in as far as he can, filling Merlin up in a way that makes Arthur's hips stutter.

He hardly has any time to lap at Merlin's neck before he feels a hand sneaking between their stomachs, Merlin's long fingers searching for his cock. He rocks his hips up, encouraging Arthur with small nudges of his knee, and Merlin's knuckles brush Arthur's stomach as he works himself, providing a rhythm for Arthur to maintain.

It grows harder and harder for Arthur to keep up with Merlin's erratic pumping and he finds himself at the mercy of Merlin's shameless moans and his tight, tight heat. Arthur thrusts in hard and the angle catches Merlin just right, eliciting a cry that Arthur wants to devour. He can hardly concentrate on anything other than the growing intensity coiling hot and dirty in his belly.

"Arthur," Merlin moans, "Arthur. Fuck, _please_ —" And Arthur comes unraveled, hips twitching as he fucks Merlin through a blinding orgasm, groaning at the clench of Merlin around him. Moments later, Merlin is there too, strings of hot, white pearls spilling over his fingers and onto his trembling stomach, moaning as he works himself through it.

When Arthur is lying shoulder to shoulder with Merlin, trying to catch his breath, Merlin starts laughing. Full on, loud, from the gut _laughing_ and Arthur rolls his neck to look over at him curiously.

"What?" he asks, furrowing his brow. Merlin's smile is glowing and Arthur finds it absolutely, painfully perfect.

"Nothing," Merlin giggles, trying to calm himself. But he only laughs harder, curling in on himself as he clutches his stomach that won't seem to stop fluttering.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur urges, nudging Merlin's hip with the tip of his finger. He'd never thought the day would end with the two of them breathless in post-sex exhilaration, but he certainly didn't think the post-sex breathlessness would be due to Merlin's laughter. 

He tries not to let his ego take any damage.

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin mocks, rolling over to face him. His laughter has faded somewhat, its only remnants being a few small chuckles and a wide grin. He leans forward, kisses Arthur’s worried brow, and then kisses his mouth, sweet and unreserved in a way that Arthur practically melts into.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asks, lips still brushing against Merlin's.

Merlin shows signs of losing it again - the tightness that stretches across his lips that Arthur mouths at softly - but he quells it by shaking his head. "It's just —" He pauses, laughs lightly and swallows before rolling onto his back. "I can't believe I was about to sentence my characters to sex like what we were tying to do in the kitchen." Arthur stares up at the ceiling and listens, imagines starting over and taking Merlin on the counter like that. Merlin giggles, "I mean, how did I think that was even _remotely_ possible?"

Arthur shrugs, feels the brush of Merlin's fingertips tiptoeing across his wrist. "Maybe it is possible," Arthur offers, looking over at Merlin. The smile Merlin gives him is stupid and incredible and Arthur tries desperately to hate him for it. "Maybe we just need a bit more practice."

Merlin stares at him for a moment, a knowing look in his eyes and this time, he's the one who lunges first.


End file.
